


With The Veil Over Their Eyes

by bigsweatersandcuddleweather



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hate, M/M, Multi, OT5, OT5 Friendship, Racism, Racist Language, one direction - Freeform, tsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:06:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsweatersandcuddleweather/pseuds/bigsweatersandcuddleweather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could feel their glares and suspicions piercing through his back, telling him that he didn’t belong there, among them. And he didn’t know why, except he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With The Veil Over Their Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Zayn stopped at the airport in LA when 1D first went to America years ago, and held in questioning for an hour, then being stopped at customs? 
> 
> Scared/uncomfortable Zayn and the other boys comforting him. I just couldn't resist.

"Oi, Malik, would you hurry up?" Louis exclaimed, exasperated as his dark haired friend who was struggling with his carry on.

"Sorry." he mumbled, keeping his head down and his hand clenching the handle of the suitcase, so they couldn’t see his fierce nerves. It wasn’t the thought of actually going on planes, he had become used to that by now. But the fact that they were going to the U.S, the actual freaking states was just beyond his comprehension.

"Hey, you alright?" Harry was always there, checking to see if he was alright, the mediator in his skin.

"Yeah. Fine." but there was no point lying because Liam knew him so well by know that there wasn’t even a smoke screen between his lie and the truth.

"No stress. Alright? We’re going to be alright." it was vague, but then again so was Harry sometimes.

"I know. We always are." his words at Harry but his eyes on Louis who was dragging Niall onto a luggage cart and demanding that Liam push them.

"Yeah, so no stress. Don’t want that pretty face getting worry lines already. How else will we make our cash when this is all over?" Harry gasped, making Zayn groan at their silly joke that they would just pimp him off or he would model and support the rest of them if the band didn’t make it in America as well as they thought it would. But it wasn’t the sales that he was worried about, because as soon as he stepped off the plane everything in the Universe seemed to be plotting against him and his sanity.

He went along with the extra screenings, although he wasn’t boarding a plane, answered the questions with ease when he was getting his passport stamped, but his heart sunk when he was asked for a fingerprint, which he promptly denied. Which prompted them to call over more guards, till it felt like they were making a blockade around him and the lads, who were all watching his reaction with worry. He didn’t fight it, answering all their questions, his hands trembling with anxiety and fear, although he tried to tamp down on it.

An hour later they nodded and asked him to stay put before walking off. Thinking that he was done he walked toward his friends, digging his fingers into the corners of his eyes, but before he could even get all the way there someone voiced over his shoulder.

"Excuse me? Sir? Could you come with us please?" a tap on his back and Zayn could feel his stomach dropping once again as a different burly shouldered man in the uniform was looking at him sternly.

"What is it now? Haven’t you harassed him enough?" surprisingly didn’t come from Louis, as he would’ve expected, but Niall who looked weary and irritated, most likely at him for holding them up.

"What seems to be the problem sir?" Paul stepped up as Harry’s arm went around Zayn’s shoulder, whispering soft reassurances, making him realize for that he couldn’t stop shaking, the shivers trailing up his spine.

"We just need to ask him a few questions. That’s all, no problem."

"It is a problem if he’s just had to go through extra screenings and T.S.A had to check his passport over twice as many as the rest of us. Now I’m his guardian while he’s on this trip and if there’s a problem then I should know." Paul protested, defensive when he saw the way Zayn’s shoulders were slouching lower and lower to the floor.

"Please restrain yourself sir, or else I will have to detain you or escort you off the premises. It’s merely formality." the uniformed personnel was stiff and far too professional for his liking, the chills spreading through him even faster. His hands scrambled, reaching for one of their hands, immediately grasping Louis and Liam’s hands, surprising them with his tight grip and shaking hands.

"Now, will you please follow me Mr. Malik?" he was giving Zayn pointed looks but Zayn’s feet were frozen, stuck to the floor as if welded there.

"Zayn, come on. I’m going to come with you." Paul said, coming toward him.

"If that’s what you please. But I assure you that it is not necessary."

"And I assure you that it very much is. You’re interrogating a kid."

"Mr. Malik is of age, he is nineteen, am I correct?" the guy may have directed his question at Paul but he was looking at Zayn critically, judging him in a way that Zayn could feel pierce his skin and burrow deep in his bones, something he would carry with him for a very long time.

"Come on Zayn, let’s get this done with. We’ve got those interviews tomorrow." Paul tried to usher him along with an arm around his shoulder but he couldn’t move, every nerve in his body telling him to hop on another one of those dreaded planes and run home, straight to Bradord and crawl under his bed, just like after those bad days at school where he could still hear their words ringing in his ears.

"Hey, it’s alright Zed." Niall was right in his face, hand squeezing his cheeks in one hand, firm and anchoring him to the present, dragging him out of his cluttered mind.

"You’re fine, there’s nothing wrong. Just some people wanting to be pricks, and take advantage of the nicest guy I know. You’ll be alright. We’re gonna be right here waiting for you." it didn’t help the way his heart was racing, threatening to force itself right out of his throat along with the remnants of his lunch.

"Yeah, yeah." he mumbled, letting himself breath them in deeply, silently saying goodbye, because he didn’t think he would be taking another step here. They’re sending you back to the U.K. The boys will just have to be a group without you, because no country will ever take you. Because of you’re name. Because you scare them. Paul’s hand replaced theirs, leading him after the intimidating officers, through doors and suffocating halls, to a bare room with a table and seats all around it, the only decorations was a pot of flowers to one side. He took the seat that the officer pointed at, hands on the table, right where they could see them, and Paul right at his side. He sat there for an hour, atleast it felt like an hour, it could’ve been more, or a lot less. The questions seemed never ending, asking him his full name, his fathers name and his mother’s maiden name, muttering the answers in a breathless way because he just couldn’t breath in that claustrophobic room, now he knew how Niall felt in the insane crowds. He refused to answer the questions about his sisters, looking to Paul when they asked him why he was in the States, then having to repeat it when they wouldn’t accept his tour manager’s answer. It took even longer to convince him that they were in a band, and when they reached for their phones he raised his taser, yelling at them to put their hands where he could see them.

In that moment Zayn wanted his dad more than anything, so he could yell at them in urdu, calling their mothers names he would never dare utter and then take Zayn away from these harsh voices and glares, glares that pierced him and made him gulty as if he had actually done something wrong.

"I want to talk to your supervisor. You have no right to talk to us this way. We have nothing to be under your scrutiny. And I refuse to be treated this way." Paul shouted, banging his hand on the table in a way that demanded authority, especially with his size and the look he was giving them.

"There’s no need for that sir. We’re done here. You two are free to go."

"I didn’t know that we were being held incarcerated. Or else we would’ve called proper attorneys. And you can be sure that they will hear about the way that you treated him." Paul stated, arms under Zayn’s armpit and practically yanking him to his feet.

"We are sorry for any inconvenience that you may have experienced. But this is just procedure."

"No, this is racial profiling. The only reason you pulled him out of the group was because of his last name and the way he stood out. And I wont stand for it. He’s still a kid. Do you have any kids?" Paul asked, leaning forward intimidatingly.

"Yeah, two girls…why?" he asked, hands twitching for his taser, and the baton on his hips.

"Imagine if someone put them through the psychological bullshit that you just out my boy through. And then tell me that it was procedure." he spat, grabbing onto Zayn’s bicep and trying to drag him away but Zayn wrenched away from his grip and walked ahead, hands stuffed into his pockets and pulling his hood down over his eyes, reveling in the darkness that could hide the embarrassment tinting his cheeks. Paul ushered him to where the boys were sat around on their luggage, their phones out and talking obnoxiously loud to each other, turning to them once they appeared and the playful grins disappearing when they saw Paul with his fists clenched and Zayn’s stiff withdrawn state.

"Let’s get out of here as fast as we bloody can. Bloody fucking prats." Paul hissed, grabbing his own case and reaching for Zayn’s flinching back when Zayn beat him to it, dodging all of their questions by following right after Andy, ready to get as far from that man and his hissing taser as possible.

"What happened Paulie?" Harry asked as they followed along, Liam jogging ahead to check on him.

"Bunch of racist pigs, that’s what. Bastard pulled a taser on Zayn when he tried to get his phone, to show him a video of you guys. Racist bunch of hypocritical asses." Paul huffed, his brogue getting deeper and more indiscernable as anger coursed through him.

"He gets enough of that shit already, with that stupid blogger and his dad going off on her. People need to back off and realize that he’s just a kid." Louis said with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, not likely." they had never seen Paul this angry, since he started working for them and it made them nervous. What exactly had happened in that room? He ushered them toward the van, slamming the door shut behind them even though there were girls who were pleading for their autographs and the driver peeled out of there as fast as he could. They immediately turned to Zayn who was sat at the very back corner, hood pulled even further over his eyes, eyes pointedly facing the window and trying to forget what had happened, although he thought that he probably never would.

"Zee? Zayner, you alright mate?" Louis asked, reaching from the middle seat, his hand cupping the denim covered knee, feeling the tremors that still ran through him.

"Fine." an answer that he barely heard. "Zayn-" Liam chimed in, only to be cut off.

"Don’t wanna talk about it. Just- don’t." he said, holding up a quivering hand just to cut them off before wrapping it back over his chest, half to seem resilient and half because the damn chills were still there, despite the cloyingly climbing heat. He didn’t want to remember the hands that patted him down once, then another time, reaching into the waist of his jeans and feeling along the line with cold gloved fingers that he could still feel. He didn’t want to remember being ordered through the extra screens, the xray machine making him feel overexposed and on display, or the way that their eyes had looked him up and down incredulously.

As if this scrawny kid from some small town in the U.K was any threat, but they still looked at him as if he had the word terrorist branded on his forehead, but maybe that’s what his tan skin was for.

"Alright lads, let’s get you up to your rooms. Niall, you’re bunking with Liam and Louis you’re with Harry, all in the same room. I couldn’t get you all in one room. Zayn, you have a single but it’s adjoined to the other room, alright?" his eyes roving over what part of the tan face that he could see, not able to tell any emotions from a firm set of lips and a jerking nod. There was nothing he could do as he handed out proper keys, to Liam and Harry since the other two didn’t seem to even be able to keep their phones on them, handing Zayn his key and then pocketing the other one himself. Just in case.

Almost immediately Zayn was locking himself in, making sure to twist the lock on the door that joined the two rooms, needing time and space and room to breath. But his mind consumed him, enveloping him in suffocating heavy thoughts that cut off his breath and made him keel over on the floor, right there, hands cradled in his arms and tears clouding his vision. _It’s not fair. I can’t help it, that I have that name. It’s fate, it’s my name, it’s part of who I am. I haven’t done anything. I’m just a nineteen year old from a small town trying to sing, trying to make my dreams come true. I’m not a threat. I’m not a terrorist. I’m just Zayn. Just Zayn._ He sniffled, bringing his hands over his head and forcing his head between his thighs, fighting the gasping constrictions in his throat. He didn’t want to be alone, didn’t like the feeling of the walls closing in on him, like prison walls.

Staggering to his feet he made his way over to the barrier, unlocking the door with trembling slack fingers and shoving it aside. The others were sprawled across the beds that they pushed together, half dozed and mumbling to each other in a daze, before they looked up at the bang of the door, their boyfriend standing in the doorway with a quivering bottom lip, those big eyes flooding with tears that he was trying not to shed.

"Oh Zee." Liam gently nudging Niall’s head off of his chest so that he could sit up, still hesitant on what to do, whether or not to invade his space. Zayn wrapped an arm around his waist and bowed his head, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes roughly, but not before they see a drop of water fall to the carpeted floor.

"He pulled a taser on me, b-because my last name is Malik. H-he thought I was a terrorist." hands reaching up to tug at his hair. Liam was there immediately, arms around his shoulders and hands nudging his face down onto the broader shoulder, tucking him softly into his embrace with a few hums and sshs. He didn’t mean to cry, didn’t mean for those tears to fall when he just wanted a little touch, but Liam’s warmth and the others closing in around him, their hands and lips against his skin in a shield that encased him. The tears fell softly, burning a patch on his cold skin as he shuddered and let a faint sob, muffled by Liam’s shoulder and the bodies hugging him.

"Oh lovey, don’t listen to them." Louis murmured, a hand threaded through his distressed hair.

"I haven’t done anything, I- I’m just- Sorry. You sh- you shouldn’t have to deal with that." he stuttered, trying to force the words from numb lips.

"Us? Us?? What is there for us to have to deal with?" Niall asked incredulously, shaking his head.

"Me and m-my stupid problems." shoving his face deeper into the warmth of Liam’s skin and Harry’s hands.

"Zayn, that is never your problem. That is a bunch of racist bastards trying to make you feel like shit because of who you are and where you come from. And they’re not worth it. They’re not worth the tears in your pretty eyes or the thoughts that go on in your head. Don’t let them ever get you down love." Liam said softly, lips pressed to his ear.

"But-"his hands itching like the rest of his skin, feeling out of place even in their grips.

"No. No buts. Take long deep breaths." Harry’s voice lulled him, dark and soft, setting his shoulders to rest for the first time since their plane took off.

"Come on, we’re all tired. How about you take nice relaxing bath and then we can all curl up and take a nap?" Liam asked, as two in the group broke apart, making him whine.

"It’s okay. They went to draw a bath." Louis murmured, hands rubbing at his back with firm but slow pressure, making him moan in delight. It felt amazing on his tense muscles. Louis simply chuckled, kisses tickling his neck.

"There we go, no more tears." Liam hummed, raising his head so that Zayn was looking into the deep warm eyes as a hand came up to wipe at his under eyes. The sides of his lips picking up gently. Louis came and stood over his shoulder, arms around his waist and nudging his face until Zayn turned over and let him press their lips together, chaste and heart palpitating.

Harry and Niall ushered him into the jacuzzi tub where they spilled his favorite tub of white tea and ginger bubble bath, flooding it to capacity but just that familiar smell put his mind to ease. Niall turned his back as his shy lover shed his clothes and immersed himself, sitting on the edge of the porcelain tub and teasing him with small kisses, before holding out a warm towel and wrapping him up tight, as Harry brought a pair of his sweats to get dressed in, big and drowning with comfort and protection.

They bundled him in their midst, knowing that their words couldn’t do what their touches could so they all made sure that all of them were touching him in one way or another, an hand on his hip, a leg tucking between his knees, fingers threading through his hair. Their touches bringing him the peace and serenity that had been drained from his veins as soon as the plane landed in this strange land, bringing him the sleep that greeted him like a lost lover, but his lovers were right there, always with him.


End file.
